


in bocca al lupo

by ness (nessismore)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Multi, OT3, Smut, there's kind of a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessismore/pseuds/ness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy walks into the cabin expecting to see Coulson and his nurse. Instead, she gets Bucky and Steve. All in all, it's not a bad trade off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in bocca al lupo

**Author's Note:**

> I know “in bocca al lupo” is an Italian phrase for good luck, but luck has nothing to do with this story (except, I suppose, in that everybody gets lucky?)
> 
> This started as answering a prompt for merideath, which was "Red Riding Hood" by Elysian Fields, but I think it might have gotten away from that a little.
> 
> Thanks to katertots for beta'ing and talking me into posting this and for being super supportive all around! Four for you, katertots.

Darcy is late. She knows Coulson was expecting her almost an hour ago, but it isn’t really her fault. As she pulls up to the cabin where he’s recuperating, she curses the damned rain because visibility is shit, especially driving through the woods. She curses SHIELD, too, for stashing Coulson all the way out here where there’s very little civilization—which, she supposes is part of the appeal, since most people aren’t supposed to know he’s alive. Still, it makes getting here really annoying. She also curses that damned Sergeant Barnes, whose sexiness does not let him off the hook for waylaying her at the tower, because he is reason she left twenty minutes late when he wouldn’t stop flirting with her. He got her so flustered she’d forgotten the snacks she was going to bring Coulson on her desk, and she had to stop by a store to bring some because a visit to Coulson just isn’t complete without the nurse trying to toss her out over giving Coulson foods that weren’t strictly on the “approved” list.

Finally, she curses herself, because she’s the idiot who volunteered to check in on Coulson’s progress every week. He’s not a half bad guy when he’s not stealing iPods and confiscating research, and they’re kind of friends now, but she doesn’t think he’s worth the soaking she’s about to get darting from her car to the cabin door. It’s been raining on and off for the past hour; right now it’s _on,_ and it’s torrential.

She pulls her red coat tighter around her, and dashes into the storm. She has a key so she lets herself in, shivering from the cold. An icy hand clamps around her neck, and she shrieks, dropping her bag and whirling around, SHIELD issued gun in hand—because SHIELD said if she’s going into a potentially dangerous situation she should have something more heavy duty than a taser—and points it at at the threat.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes stares back at her, lifting a sardonic brow. “Good to see you too, Lewis.” 

She keeps the gun trained on him, even though they both know perfectly well he can disarm her with one hand behind his back if he so desires.

“Fucking fuck, Barnes, why are you _everywhere_?”

He smirks. “It’s a talent.”

She looks around the cabin and there are no signs of the people she came to see. “What’d you do with Coulson and Emily?” 

He nods his head towards the gun in her hand. “You want answers or would you just like to shoot me?”

She thinks about it so long he rolls his eyes, but he still doesn’t take the gun from her. She decides to put it away herself before she gives into the temptation to actually shoot him.

“So what gives?” she asks. 

“Someone found out your buddy’s location. Got word there might be a hit on him sometime this week. A buddy and I are here to…neutralize the threat.”

It’s more surprising that Barnes is actually telling her something than that someone wants Coulson dead. “Wait, you’re actually telling me? I thought SHIELD’s motto was ‘deny, obscure, steal.’”

Barnes smirks again. “You forgot manipulate, dollface.”

“Ah, yes. How could I have possibly missed that one. Why are you telling me?”

“We’re bringing you in, Lewis.”

She crosses her arms and glares belligerently, her annoyance enough to make her forget that she’s soaked to the skin and freezing. How like SHIELD to not tell her _anything_ until she gets there. “I’m not a SHIELD agent.”

Barnes shrugs. “For the purposes of this mission, you are temporarily.”

“I’m not even trained for anything,” she says as a horrifying thought strikes her. Coulson’s more important than six college credits, but she’d rather not die for him. “If someone is coming here to kill Coulson, should I even be here? Can’t I just go back home and pretend you’re _not_ here in place of Steely Phil?”

“‘Fraid not.” He sounds entirely too cheerful about this. “Can’t break routine. The people coming here will know that you stay the night Friday and Saturday, and if you deviate from that it might tip them off and risk them going to ground. We could sneak Emily and Phil out no problem because they don’t leave, but you’ve been known to go in and out of the cabin. They don’t see you, they get suspicious. You’re stuck with us, doll. But don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”

This doesn’t sound much like a plan at all, actually, but what the hell does she know? She’d feel a hell of a lot safer if Bucky’s buddy was here. She shivers at the thought of being stuck in here with Barnes and Rogers, because they’re both beautiful men. If Rogers was inside the cabin, he’d have already come out and apologized for his friend’s behavior, so she can only assume that he’s out. Which is a problem, because Barnes has been pursuing her hard over the last few weeks and she’s almost ready to fall into bed with him. “So where’s Captain Rogers?”

“What makes you think he’s my plus one?”

Darcy raises an eyebrow. “He’s the only buddy you’ve got.”

“Why do you insist on hurting me, Lewis?” He says it lightly, but Darcy catches a glimpse of the darkness that lurks beneath the cavalier charm he wears so well. This is the real Sergeant Barnes, hiding beneath the surface. It draws her in, makes her want to strip down the layers, which would be dangerous. So, so dangerous. She makes herself focus on Rogers as Barnes continues talking. “He drew the short straw. He’s making sure the alarms we set haven’t been dislodged by the rain. I told him they were good, but he likes to be sure.”

“Is Rogers coming back anytime soon?” He’s the lightness to Barnes’ dark, the one she knows she can trust completely. Barnes, she doesn’t trust.

“You afraid of me, Lewis?”

“No.” 

He takes a step closer and even as she tells herself to stand her ground, she involuntarily steps back. His smile is feral as he takes another step forward. “Liar.”

She shivers again, in awareness, in anticipation. “I’m not.”

He moves with a predatory grace. He dropped the charm, and he’s all hunter now. From the look in his eyes, she knows that she’s the prey and he’s coming closer and closer until she’s backed against the door, and she feels a little like Little Red Riding Hood confronted with the Big Bad Wolf. His hands rest on the wood on either side of her, trapping her in. Sergeant Barnes’s gaze flicks down over her breasts, then lower. She tries to tell herself that his obvious perusal of her is disgusting and not at all a turn on, but the dampness between her legs begs to differ. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs, fingering a lock of her dripping hair. “I wonder what else is wet.”

“Barnes—“

“Bucky,” he says, moving in to brush his lips against her neck. Darcy’s head tilts to give him better access. His hands move to unbutton her coat, and he slips it off her shoulders.

“Bucky,” she moans. She brings her hands up to push him away, but she ends up clutching his shoulders to pull him closer. “Assassins, remember?” Although she’s having a hard time remembering herself as Bucky’s stubble rasps against her skin and his tongue leaves a trail of heat from the crook of her neck to her jaw.

“Alarms. We’ll hear them.”

“Steve—“

“Can join in.” His breath is hot against her skin and she gasps at the image that invokes. 

“Tell me you don’t want it.” He pulls away, his eyes big and dark and hungry. His hand stills. “Tell me to stop.”

“And would you?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

“Yes. Do you want me to?” She should say yes. She really, really should, but... 

“No,” she says. She tangles her hands in his hair and molds his lips to hers. A hand cups her ass, than trails up beneath her blouse.  It feels big and warm against her back. “What big hands you have,” she murmurs, and he chuckles.

“The better to do this,” he says. Rough hands come up to cover her breasts, one hot, callused flesh, the other cool, ridged metal, and the dueling sensations have her gasping. His tongue invades her mouth, sweeping and seeking, twining with hers. He pins her hard against the wall, then lifts her in his arms. She hitches her legs around his waist, rubbing herself against the bulge in his pants, and he says, “Not yet.”

He carries her through the bedroom, his lips still on hers, tongues still dueling, and places her gently on the bed. His body covers hers and gives her a wolfish smile. “Let me show you what my tongue can do, too.”

—

He can’t resist pressing his erection against her for a moment, grinding against her. His lips brush against her neck, her shoulders. His hands tangle in her blouse, a delicate silky thing, and he wrinkles and pulls at the material. He pulls the shirt over her head, tangling the fabric, and quite possibly ripping it, exposing the pretty, red silk of her bra. His tongue laves her pebbled nipples over the silk, and he helps her divest of that, too. He nuzzles against one breast, then the next. Her skin seems to be exquisitely sensitive, and so he gently rubs his stubbled face across her nipples, then circles his tongue over both. She moans.

“I want your shirt off, now,” she says, and he smiles, all teeth.

“Bossy.” But he complies, and then her hands are running over his chest, dipping below the waistband of his jeans. “Not yet,” he admonishes, taking hold of her wrists. He sucks one finger into his mouth, loving the way her eyes glaze over slightly when he does this. He takes another finger, does it again, and she whimpers. He slides down her body, blazing down a searing path with his tongue and his lips that has her bucking against him.

He unbuckles her jeans, which are damp from the rain, and slides them off her, then he’s pressing his mouth over her panties, savoring the smell and feel of her. He runs his knuckles gently down her silk-covered slit. Her panties are soaked, and he loves that. He didn’t think it was possible, but it makes him even harder, and he shifts slightly. He presses more firmly, rubbing her through her panties. She squirms, trying to get him to increase his pressure. “Not yet, baby doll.”

He’s wanted her since the moment he saw her, knew Steve wanted her, too, and he hopes he can get his best friend to join them. Now that he’s got her right where he wants her, he wants to take his time, to savor, to play. There’s a job to do, he knows, but he’s perfectly confident in his abilities to play with little Miss Lewis and do what needs to be done.

He blows softly against her dripping core, and she pushes her hips towards his mouth. He pulls away, refusing to let her come into contact with any part of him where he knows she wants it most.

Darcy lifts her head and glares. “You’re a bastard, Barnes. I want you in me now.”

“Patience, baby girl. I want to taste you.” He straightens, pulls her panties off, slowly, reverently, because he knows it’ll piss her off, and because he wants to savor his first sight of her. He’s determined that it won’t be his last. He takes a deep breath, and kisses her inner thighs. His tongue flicks out, teasing the soft, sensitive skin, and her hips buck. Her hands fist in his hair as she tries to make him go where she most wants him, but he takes his time, scraping his teeth against her thighs. She’s trying not to look needy, but he knows she is. He can feel it. He can smell it.

“You smell so good,” he says before he bends his head and slides his tongue over her, dipping into her, and she gasps and tries to bring him closer. “You taste even better.” He savors the flavor of her on his tongue. She’s fucking delicious. She shifts, putting her legs over his shoulders, which was exactly where he wanted them, and he teases her, licking everywhere but right where she wants him. Then he does, and she hisses, tightening her hands in his hair, and he takes that as a sign to go hard, licking, lapping her clit, thrusting in to her with his tongue, plunging his fingers into her until she comes. And then he does it all over again.

—

Steve shucks his poncho and tosses it on the armchair. It’s wet out there, which he wouldn’t mind so much if it was consistent. The constant shift in temperature and visibility drove him nuts; it made checking the tripwires put in place take that much longer, and he’s glad to be back inside where it’s warm. 

“Bucky?” he calls when doesn’t immediately see anyone when he walks in. He hopes that’s a sign that Darcy hasn’t arrived yet, because she’s always a little skittish around Bucky and he’d hate for her to feel uncomfortable for too long. Also, he’s seen the way that Bucky looks at her and he’s not sure he’s comfortable with that, either.

A sharp cry fills the air, and Steve is on red alert, running into the bedroom. He is greeted by the sight of Darcy Lewis, naked on the bed, hair fanned out across the pillow, Bucky with her ankles hooked over his shoulders and his face buried between her thighs. Steve forgets all about the mission.

“Are you okay?” he asks, which is probably not the smartest question. Of course she’s okay. She looks _better_ than okay. He feels like he shouldn’t find this sexy, but he does and he can’t tear his eyes away from them.

They don’t stop what they’re doing. If anything, Bucky goes at her even harder and her eyes shut tight from the intensity of it all.

Darcy cries out. She’s rolling her hips up to meet Bucky’s hungry mouth. Her little sounds of delight are punctuated by keening screams. Steve is instantly hard. He’s wanted Darcy forever and to see her warm and wanton and willing is beautiful thing. Granted, he’d always hoped _he’d_ be the one to get her there. He’d never imagined that watching the girl of his dreams with someone else would be a turn on, but it is. It really, really is.

He isn’t sure what to do, so he watches them, watches as Bucky devours her, watches as she alternates between clutching the sheets and tugging at Bucky’s hair.

And then she arches back, her mouth open in silent rapture, both hands fisted in Bucky’s hair. Her body shakes, and Bucky keeps his mouth pressed to her, drinking her in. When she comes down from her high, Bucky crawls up her body, peppering her with kisses, before ravaging her mouth like he’d just done to her further down.

Bucky breaks the kiss, and he moves to worship at her neck as Darcy beckons Steve over. Without thinking twice, he walks over to the bed and kneels beside her. She drags him to her, and her lips find his in a demanding kiss. He can taste her on her tongue as it flicks against his. She takes his hands, brings them up to cup her breasts, forces his fingers to close around them.

“Yes,” she breathes into his mouth, and they both moan. He kneads her breasts as she plunges her tongue back into his mouth. Darcy jolts. Her breath hitches and she wraps her arms tighter around him. Steve pulls away, and her eyes are closed, mouth open in acute pleasure. She begins to pitch her hips up, and Steve turns to see Bucky, her legs hooked over his elbows, driving in and out of her.

Steve isn’t quite sure what to do. He’s had sex before, but he’s never done this. It’s completely outside his realm of experience and he doesn’t know what the etiquette for these kinds of things are. Maybe it would be polite to let Bucky and Darcy have a moment alone, but she seems to really like what his hands are doing, too. Unsure, he starts to slip his hands from her breasts when she covers them with her own, trapping them against the warm, soft mounds. She shakes her head at him, releases one of her hands to cup the nape of his neck and bring him closer. Instead of guiding him to her lips, she guides them to her breast. He licks one nipple, uncovers the other breast, and then he’s feasting, suckling and nibbling, scraping his teeth against her puckered nipples. Her fingers dig into his scalp, trying to hold him to her.

She writhes underneath both of their attentions, and then she reaches down, finds Steve still in jeans, and pulls his head up so that he’s looking at her. “Pants off, now, mister.” He doesn’t have to be told twice, and soon he’s naked, too. Her fingers explore his cock, tracing, teasing, squeezing and Steve lets out a ragged groan. Darcy smiles as Bucky fucks her harder.

Then her tongue is on him, and he’s tries to think of something, anything, so that he doesn’t come too soon. All three of them are vocal in their enjoyment, and their sighs, moans, and growls mix together in sultry harmony. 

—

Bucky pauses while Darcy, eyes locked with Steve’s, slides her mouth over him as far as she can take him. She wraps her fingers around the rest of his length, loving the way he feels in her mouth. “What a pretty sight,” Bucky says, raking his nails against her thigh. Steve nods in agreement, pushing forward a little, and Darcy hums in delight before she pulls her mouth back off of him. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined that this would happen. Oh sure, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that she’d fuck Bucky, but Steve was just a fantasy. Steve _and_ Bucky, together, is just so mind-numbingly hot and her body is reveling in all the attention. Steve was tentative at first, but he isn’t anymore, pumping slowly into her mouth pushing in as far as she’ll take him, making sure that he’s not too rough as his hands alternate between guiding her and kneading her breasts. This is beyond anything she’d ever hoped for. 

Bucky moves in her again, and fuck, this is awesome. She tightens around him, making him shudder, and soon they’ve established a rhythm. She brings her hips up to meet Bucky’s thrusts, and each one feels like it goes harder, deeper and it’s better than anything she could have dreamed. Bucky reaches around and plays with her clit, driving her towards orgasm and then she explodes, clasping and pulsing around him. It’s enough to send him over the edge, and he’s coming inside her and it feels so fucking good. Her mouth tightens around Steve, but he staves off orgasm and pulls out of her mouth. Bucky lies on his back, arm draped across Darcy’s stomach as she looks up at Steve. 

“I want you,” she whispers, as he bends to kiss her. “I want you so much.” He moves between her legs, but she shakes her head, pushing him to lie on his back beside Bucky. She straddles Steve’s hips, the remnants of Bucky’s orgasm dripping out of her, and she lowers herself onto Steve. He makes an unintelligible sound of ecstasy, and she’s pretty sure it matches the one she makes as she stretches to fit him. He feels different than Bucky, but no less amazing. She loves the way he fills her. His hands come up to her hips, like he wants to hold her there for as long as possible. His fingers bite into her and she knows she’ll probably have bruises in the morning, but it feels so good. Then she moves, riding him, and his hips buck up to meet hers. They go slowly at first and then hard, until the bed is creaking and the headboard is slamming against the wall.

She alternates between watching Steve’s face and watching Bucky’s. She can’t tell who’s more turned on, but she knows that this—the three of them—feels so right. Bucky gets tired of being left out, and she feels the bed dip behind her, then there are hands on her breasts, lips on her neck, and she’s coming again, riding Steve and leaning back against Bucky, his lips coming down hard on hers. She sinks her teeth into his lower lip and he moans, squeezing her breasts with a force that straddles the line between pleasure and pain.

Steve is watching them hungrily, and he brings a hand up to brush her cheek. She takes his hand in hers, never breaking their rhythm, as she draws his finger into her mouth and sucks hard. Bucky slips his hand down her body, presses his thumb against her clit, and she’s coming again. Steve’s not far behind, and they collapse into an exhausted pile on the bed.

—

Her first thought when she wakes up is that she can’t believe she had the best sex of her life in Coulson’s bed. Her second thought is that one side of her is freezing, and she reaches for Bucky to pull him closer. When she doesn’t find him there, she jerks up. A warm, hard arm snakes around her waist, pulling her close. She turns to look at Steve, who is wide awake and dressed in his Captain America getup, and she wonders when the hell _that_ happened. In any case, she’s already on alert, so when he holds a finger to his lips, she nods. She reaches over to where her phone is on the nightstand—Bucky or Steve must have put it there—and opens a new text message and types, _what’s going on?_

Steve’s fingers are slightly clumsy as they work over her phone, not because he doesn’t know how but because his fingers are so big. She shivers at the memory of those fingers inside of her, but that’s not important now. _alarms triggered. don’t worry._

Stifling a scoff, she tries not to smile. Phrases like “alarms triggered” _should_ be worrying, but she doesn’t waste time telling Steve that. _bucky?_ she types.

 _taking care of business._ Right. Doing his “I am the hunter” thing. Somehow she doubts that his prey now will like being hunted half as much as she did. 

Steve looks grim as he leans back against the headboard, but he doesn’t look worried. That doesn’t mean that Darcy isn’t. This whole night has changed their relationship entirely and she’s not going to let one of them get themselves killed before they have a chance to talk about it. Or have more sex.

 _shouldn’t you be backing him up?_ She punctuates the message by poking him in the chest. 

_don’t need to. My job is to stay here and protect you. they should never even get near the cabin._

Darcy wants to argue the point, but she knows Bucky’s skill set, knows Steve is a good tactician and an even better planner. They’ve gone over all aspects of this thing, and she’s not going to pretend she knows better. And even though she can shoot a gun, on the off chance that one of these assassins manages to slip past Bucky _and_ Steve, she knows she’d probably be no match for him. Or her. 

 _relax_ , he types. _everything will be fine._ She doesn’t bother telling Steve that that is never reassuring, and instead crawls out of bed to find her clothes. Her blouse is mangled and probably unsalvageable, and she’s about to grab something of Coulson’s (she can’t wear one of Emily’s shirts without stretching it out, but she doesn’t mind ruining one of his things) when she Steve tosses her the shirt he’d been wearing earlier.

He’s admiring her naked form, and she smiles at his look of disappointment when she covers it all up. She finds her panties, and they’re in better shape than the rest of her clothes and they’re better than nothing, so she slips those on, too. Her jeans are still too wet to do anything with, and she’s not sure where her bra went, but at least she feels a little bit better. If potential assassins come bursting into the cabin, at least she won’t be buck-ass naked. 

She does grab her gun from the living room, but when she goes to sit on the couch to wait, Steve shakes his head and directs her to sit in the tub in the bathroom. She wants to argue, but he’s got his Captain America face on. Since he knows more about this shit than she does, she goes to sit in the tub, her gun at the ready, just in case. Steve closes the door behind him.

She repeats to herself that everything will be fine, then everything is _not_ fine as she hears the cabin door crash open, and Steve’s voice shouting. Then there’s gun fire, and Darcy tries not to panic as she clutches the gun. The door to the bathroom flies off it’s hinges as it’s kicked open and Darcy pulls the trigger, hoping if it’s one of her guys, they’ll have the good sense to expect her to shoot first, ask questions later. Her aim is terrible, but it gets the guy in the shoulder, and the gun he’s holding drops to the ground. The next moment, Steve’s there taking care of the rest of the problem. 

He approaches the tub and waits for her to hand him the gun. She does and then she jumps on him, holding him tightly. His arms close around her and she finds comfort in it for a moment before she looks up at him. “We have to find Bucky!”

“Right here, doll face.” They turn, and Bucky’s there standing in the bathroom doorway. He’s a little more bruised and battered, and there’s a gash the size of her palm on his forehead, but he’s still smirking so she figures he has to be okay.

She tears herself out of Steve’s arms and Bucky opens his arms to her. Instead, she slugs him in the non-bionic arm. “Oof. What was that for?”

“Dumbass,” she mutters, then she hugs him, too.

“What the hell happened out there?” Steve asks, but he doesn’t sound angry. He just sounds curious. Not at all like a guy who’d just dispatched one and a half would-be assassins. The half is unconscious next to the toilet. From this angle, she can just barely see the one sprawled out behind the couch. 

“We fucking forgot how to count, that’s what. Or one of our analysts isn’t great with numbers. Said there were going to be six guys. I took care of six guys.” Bucky shakes his head in disgust, his hands traveling down Darcy’s back. She slaps them away, because he is in no condition for that right now. “Then one of the extra ones got the jump on me, and the other two went ahead and I guess you took care of them.”

“The extra?” Steve asks, all business.

“Tied naked to a tree.” Darcy looks up at Bucky, startled. He just shrugs. “He pissed me off.”

Steve just shakes his head, then pushes past him to lead the way into the living area. “Well since you let them get the jump on you, you get to fix the door.”

Bucky flips him off. “Fuck you, I got seven of ‘em _and_ I reset the alarms. You fix the fucking door.”

Steve does end up fixing the door, or at least makes sure that it stays shut for the night, because she tells him that she needs to take care of Bucky. Bucky looks smug until she says she might need to give him stitches for that wound on his forehead. The cut ends up being shallow and he could probably do a better job on himself than she could, but he’s on his best behavior as he lets her fuss over him. Then they watch (and laugh) while Steve works on the door. She’s fascinated as she watches him McGyver a makeshift lock out of kitchen utensils. 

Since it looks like things have settled down, Darcy’s not sure what to do with herself. She’s not going to bring up the big fat elephants having a threesome in the room, so she heads back to the living room and pulls on her still damp jeans.

“Why are we putting on clothes?” Bucky asks, leaning on the kitchen counter, brow arched. Steve doesn’t say anything, but he looks equally curious.

“Well, it’s over, right? So I should—“

“Start taking clothes off instead of putting them on? Yeah, I think you should.” He prowls toward her, and a thrill of anticipation shoots through her. From the corner of her eye, she sees Steve approaching, and while he’s not quite as wolfish as Bucky, she doesn’t quite remember why she thought he was _safe._

 _Man,_ she thinks to herself as they back her against the wall, _if you give a man a threesome…_

And then she’s not thinking at all because there’s Bucky’s hot breath melding with hers as their lips crash together, and Steve’s teeth scraping against the crook of her neck as one of his big hands slides up her body to cup her breasts. Then Steve is picking her up and carrying to the bedroom. They still have to talk, but that’s for later. They’ve got all weekend for this now.

**Author's Note:**

> So since I started writing smut, I've found I can either do plot or I can do smut. This is my first attempt at really weaving the two together, in that more than 500 words are devoted to something plot-y.


End file.
